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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28658769">Where Do Broken Hearts Go?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesperione/pseuds/Vesperione'>Vesperione</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Autistic John McNamara, Drunken fluff, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Songfic, The Black And White, They sing a song, john doesnt, john likes one direction, john mcnamara - horny bastard 2019, one year post black friday, song: Where Do Broken Hearts Go - One Direction, stimming! John McNamara, xander drinks red wine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:47:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,339</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28658769</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesperione/pseuds/Vesperione</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a year where Xander's been without John. He wants him back more than ever now</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Xander Lee/John McNamara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Where Do Broken Hearts Go?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>anyways so where do broken hearts go is a good song and the song lyrics are in italics. unlike my many apotheosis fics, nobody is infected! john's just dead and stuck in a realm with six ancient deities of which five are bastards, puppy like henchmen and wilbur</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Ten minutes. </em>
</p>
<p>Xander Lee tried to sleep. He tried to force his eyes to close, to settle the idea that it had been a year since the place in his bed had been empty. He knew that, after everything, John would want him to move on, and he’d tried. He couldn’t remember feeling love before John, and he didn’t think he’d be able to find another to fit the same criteria as his husband had. Even with the knowledge that there were probably tons of men who’d want him in other areas, as John would always say, none of them would ever be the same.</p>
<p>
  <em>Nine minutes. </em>
</p>
<p>He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he moved on. Nobody would ever match John’s energy. Behind closed doors, he was the boldest man Xander had ever met. When he wanted to, he’d get shirt buttons undone in seconds and would have you on top of them in less. If he wanted to, his voice would become liquid lava. That man had one hell of a temper and he’d let you know about it if something twisted him the wrong way, or if someone twisted him the wrong way. Because he wanted to, when he was drunk, he’d dance on the couch, belting some song from the 2000s obnoxiously. But he wanted to be a hero.</p>
<p>
  <em>Eight minutes. </em>
</p>
<p>Xander turned over. The room had been cold since the minute John’s presence had left his life. He continued to work under Colonel Schaffer when she took over. Except, she wasn’t one distributing orders to fight the war. Rumours stated that it had ended, and Xander hadn’t heard anything about it for weeks. Then again, he usually found out all his news from John. And with John not there, it was impossible.</p>
<p>
  <em>Seven minutes. </em>
</p>
<p>John was an eccentric figure. A cloud of smoke seemed to follow him everywhere. He smoked, and he drank liquor instead of wine, and he was a muscular man. Built strong with the ability to confide his emotions to the pit of his stomach in the field was the reason he was such a good general. He was the aftermath of fire, the wave of relief that came from a tense few weeks. And now he was gone.</p>
<p>
  <em>Six minutes. </em>
</p>
<p>His laugh was a chime of a bell. He never laughed at work. He became too occupied with his work and would only become comfortable laughing around Xander or if he were at a casual event with work friends. John’s laugh was distinct. In awkward situations, his laugh matched his voice: sophisticated, deep and slick. But that wasn’t who he really was. At home, Xander was able to hear it many a time. When he threw his head back, it was a pure cackle. It was high pitched and often turned to wheezing, tears forming in his eyes. There’d be instances where he’d be unable to catch his breath because he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. That was the John he knew and loved...loves.</p>
<p>
  <em>Five minutes. </em>
</p>
<p>Having to tell himself he loves him instead of loved him hurt Xander. People told him to move on, they spoke about John like he wasn’t there. It was fairly apparent that he wasn’t there at all. Even if Xander wanted to admit to himself that he was moving on, which he wasn’t, he would always love John. He was falling to a past mindset that featured him talking about his husband in past tense. Though he was dead, it never meant the memories of him were.</p>
<p>
  <em>Four minutes. </em>
</p>
<p>Xander felt a tear roll down his cheek and on to the pillow he was lying on as he rolled back over and looked at the empty space where John should have been sleeping. A year ago, he had no idea that John would have selfishly ran into the portal. Nobody did. This time last year, John had been sleeping like a baby, his blonde hair matted in a ponytail and his uniform hung up, ready to go. John should still be here. It was Wilbur’s fault he wasn’t.</p>
<p>
  <em>Three minutes.</em>
</p>
<p>He’d never get to feel John again. He’d never get to feel his spite as they fought, his laugh when he was joyous, the flutter in his heart when John was drunk and loving, the passion he emitted when things got hot and heavy between them and the only thing that would help John was to remove the layers of clothing that he had on. He’d never get to wipe John’s tears away, or bandage up an injury, or brush his hair out of his face. Unless he was planning on touching a corpse…</p>
<p>
  <em>Two minutes. </em>
</p>
<p>They didn’t retrieve John’s corpse. A few agents took President Goodman to Marine One, and with Xander the head of the mission, he was tuned in to the radio. He’d heard everything. “<em>He said his body was gonna dematerialise and his spirit was gonna be absorbed- I don’t know what that means!” </em>Other agents approached Xander, questioning if they should risk it. They questioned if they should follow John’s bravery, step into The Black and White, and pull him out. He dismissed them. Xander dismissed them immediately. John wasn’t just dead. He was gone from existence.</p>
<p>
  <em>One minute. </em>
</p>
<p>Coming home the night that the war was confirmed to be ongoing without John by his side was terrifying. Staying in denial, he’d ran straight up to their bedroom where he’d usually be reading or sleeping after work. But he wasn’t there. Up until that moment, Xander hadn’t ever believed in ghosts, but as he collapsed to his knees, he found himself praying for the universe to give him a sign that John’s spirit was still alive even if his body wasn’t. Nothing came. Xander immediately lost hope.</p>
<p>
  <em>Midnight: November 23<sup>rd</sup>, 2019 – one year without him.</em>
</p>
<p>Xander watched as the notification flashed on his phone. He wiped his eyes and shuddered. November was always cold in Hatchetfield, but it was even colder without his companion, his sidekick beside him to get him through. He knew he wasn’t going to sleep, so he wrote an email to Colonel Schaffer explaining he may need a day or two off. She’d understand. She always had. He turned his phone off and grabbed one of John’s sweaters, throwing it on. Somehow, they were always warmer than his own. He could never figure out why that had been.</p>
<p>He walked downstairs, grabbing himself a glass of water. He could become the stereotypical mourning alcoholic, but he couldn’t bare the thoughts of alcohol after John died. He couldn’t face it. He’d go back to bed and hope that John was at rest no matter where he was. Even if there was the slimmest chance that he was alive, he hoped he wasn’t in pain. He could only hope that The Black and White treated him well and didn’t give him a painful death. He didn’t deserve it. Nobody did.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>Ten minutes. </em>
</p>
<p>The Black and White was cold, and it was empty. Stuck in military gear and paper-like clothing wasn’t ideal. The weight of his military jacket felt like a burden. As the general of the united states military, he should have been able to realise how foolish he was being when he jumped into the portal. It would have taken seconds to grab a suit, and it would have given him more time to tell Xander goodbye.</p>
<p>
  <em>Nine minutes.</em>
</p>
<p>Xander. God, how was he? He was often swarmed with other thoughts and, being stuck with several ancient deities <em>and </em>his ex-mentor as well as those ancient deities’ little henchmen, he didn’t have time to rest. Now, alone with his thoughts in the endless pit of darkness, his mind flew back to his husband. Maybe he was happier at home. Maybe he’d moved on. He felt a twang of pain in his chest at the thought of Xander moving on, but he knew it would be healthier for him. He wanted the best for Xander, and if that meant him moving on, then he’d let him. It wasn’t like he could go home anytime soon anyway.</p>
<p>
  <em>Eight minutes. </em>
</p>
<p>He knew nothing about what was happening in Hatchetfield. He wasn’t aware of anything. Since The Black and White had decided to claim him in an old-fashioned torture like way, he’d given up on trying to get home. Instead, he watched as the spores of his skin drifted like dust and landed as glittery specs into the floor he was stood on. He watched as his skin started turning more translucent. He couldn’t see the bone of his arm like he’d thought, but he could see right through it. It would be soon before John McNamara didn’t exist anymore at all.</p>
<p>
  <em>Seven minutes.</em>
</p>
<p>Just because John didn’t exist anymore, it didn’t mean that Xander was the same. Xander Lee was an incredible mind. Everywhere he went, sunshine followed. He was John’s direct opposite. He drank wine instead of liquor, and though not the most muscular, he was sure his brain had abs due to how hard he worked. His personality was constructed as a comforter, as someone to go to for advice or for a hug. He was the aftermath of a long hazy day at work, and he bought a light wherever he went. And now…now John knew nothing about him.</p>
<p>
  <em>Six minutes. </em>
</p>
<p>He could remember how he sounded though. His voice was so smooth, slightly raspy when he was waking up or tired, but it was beautiful. However, nothing could beat how beautiful his laugh was. Being one of the happiest people he’d ever met, he often got to hear the noise. At work, it was a soft, proud giggle. A congratulations to some of the other agents when they told them about their achievements many a time, and it occurred when he was half awake. But, when he really got going, he was <em>the </em>most unattractive laugher John had ever encountered. Apparently, John was naturally funny without realising it, so it often led to Xander spitting coffee on to the carpet or choking after John spoke. He’d snort, and he’d cry, and he was so <em>loud. </em>But it was his Xander. He loved his Xander…loves.</p>
<p>
  <em>Five minutes. </em>
</p>
<p>Of course. Loves. Xander was still alive, unlike himself. Often a time, he’d check if he were living or not. The Black and White convinced him he was alive, but he knew he was dead. Sometimes, the emptiness was too convincing. He’d press two fingers to his neck, and they’d nearly fade through his skin. He was dying by the day even though his heart wasn’t beating, and his brain wasn’t there. Xander didn’t have to worry about the day that <em>he </em>faded out of existence. His main worry was…himself, he guessed. And though John was dead, it never meant he forgot the memories of Xander. Of home.</p>
<p>
  <em>Four minutes. </em>
</p>
<p>He didn’t know what day it was. Lately, The Sniggles had become more excited, and Wilbur had been less revengeful, so he speculated it was some time around what day Black Friday had been last year. The Black and White didn’t have time. The watch on his wrist stopped working the minute he was inside. Time didn’t exist, days didn’t exist, so how was he to know how long he’d been gone for? He didn’t know. He wanted to know. Maybe he had a shot at saying a final goodbye to Xander.</p>
<p>
  <em>Three minutes. </em>
</p>
<p>Xander. He’d never get to feel Xander again, he assumed. If he was stuck, he’d never get to kiss him, he’d never get to hold him, he’d never get to cuddle into him when work frustrated him. He’d never feel the lab coat, or the leather jacket, or Xander’s cracked knuckles. He wouldn’t ever get to feel the lifting in his chest whenever he was around him. He’d never experience any other firsts with him, and Xander had had to experience so many firsts <em>without </em>him.</p>
<p>
  <em>Two minutes. </em>
</p>
<p>He didn’t like to think of the times he’d missed with Xander. He didn’t want to think of how many times Xander had slept on tear-soddened pillows, or how many times he’d screamed at the air about how he was so dumb and foolish as to not stop him from entering the portal. He never liked to think of Xander upset. He tried to remain optimistic in these trying times.</p>
<p>
  <em>One minute. </em>
</p>
<p>He kept walking. The shoelaces of his boots dragged along the blood that made up the floor of the realm he was trapped in. At least he was alone now. No God or Sniggle in sight, he was alone. His heart twanged out of pain when he realised that Xander was more than likely alone right now as well. He would do anything to get home to his husband. He would do <em>anything. </em>He continued walking, his blonde hair blowing in the false wind that was often created by the Gods testing out some new power. It didn’t have any affect on him, though. He couldn’t feel it. He removed his beret and folded it up, slipping it into an empty space in his military jacket so he could give his hair some freedom. As he was doing so, he didn’t notice a God he’d never encountered before walk into his eye view.</p>
<p>“General McNamara.”</p>
<p>John’s eyes shot open wide as he grabbed his gun, looking straight towards the deity who stood before him. With long white hair and silk covering her tall body that formed a pristine white dress seemingly untouched and unstained by the blood she walked through, John realised she was different. She had amber coloured eyes, six, and small fangs in her mouth. Immediately, he was intrigued. “Who are you?”</p>
<p>“Do you know what time it is?” She asked, and he shook his head. “It’s midnight, November 23<sup>rd</sup>, 2019. It’s been a year since you died, Jonathan.”</p>
<p>John’s expression steeled. Xander had been without him for a year. That thought made some sort of feeling churn in his stomach. “Who are you.” He repeated, much sterner.</p>
<p>“My name is Webby. I don’t think we’ve met, but I’m sure you’ve met my brothers.” She offered him a gentle smile and held a hand out to him. “I’m here to give you an offer.”</p>
<p>“It depends on what.” He bit back, and again, she smiled, her pale skin glistening like dew on a spider’s web on a snowy morning.</p>
<p>“I can get you back to Xander. I don’t wish for my brothers to win their fight, and you <em>are </em>their biggest enemy, after all. It’ll start-“</p>
<p>“You can get me back to him. And you’re not joking.” He said and looked up to her. She nodded slowly and went to speak again, but he slapped his hand into hers, shaking her hand. “I don’t want an explanation. I’m ready to go home.”</p><hr/>
<p>Xander woke in the morning. Usually, it was to the sun poking through the clouds and through the curtains. John had chosen to get the <em>shittiest </em>curtains in the universe. He claimed it was his ‘<em>natural alarm clock.’ </em>Xander knew John used to get between 4 and 5 each morning, so he’d get up whenever the sun did. It never meant that Xander ever had to.</p>
<p>The difference was that he’d gotten used to sleeping and waking up when the sun rose. So he definitely found it odd when he woke up in a darker room than usual and the voice of someone else in his head.</p>
<p><em>“Counted all my mistakes, and there’s only one</em>.” Though Xander was too tired to figure out who the voice was, he definitely recognised the song. One of John’s favourites.  <em>“Standing out from the list of the things I’ve done.”</em></p>
<p><em>“All the rest of my crimes don’t come close,” </em>Xander hummed tiredly, his eyes flickering shut again, somewhat comforted by the presence of the other voice.</p>
<p><em>“To the look on your face when I let you go.” </em>The bed sheets rustled as the figure moved closer. Xander was too tired to care, putting it down to that he was dreaming still.</p>
<p>
  <em>“So I built you a house from a broken home.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“And I wrote you a song with the words you spoke.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yeah it took me some time, but I figured out-.”</em>
</p>
<p><em>“How to fix up a heart that I let down.” </em>They sang in unison. Xander’s eyes opened again, much more awake than the second time. He realised that the reason the sunlight wasn’t shining in was because someone was blocking it from entering, and they were lay right next to him. Xander rubbed his eyes, and as his vision cleared, his heart stopped.</p>
<p>His hair was golden in the light, glistening effortlessly. His eyes were awake and alive, bluer than a summer sky. His skin wasn’t bruised or damaged in any way aside from the scar that ran over his right eye. He was dressed in a blue cotton pyjama shirt, and most likely the pants. They were a gift Xander had bought him for his birthday one year as a joke, but he loved them. And there he lay. Alive, and <em>not </em>a corpse.</p>
<p>“John?” He asked, his voice lilting out of hope, tears welling in his eyes. John’s smile widened and he nodded.</p>
<p>“I’m home.”</p>
<p>Xander sobbed and launched himself at him. He felt John’s arms wrap around him, pulling him into place. Xander’s head was set to rest on John’s head, and John’s placed his chin on top of it. Immediately, John held him protectively as Xander cried. “You’re dead!”</p>
<p>“I was never dead. Not really.” He looked down at him and brushed a tear away. “I am so…<em>so </em>sorry.”</p>
<p>“I forgive you. I never hated you, I just wanted you home.”</p>
<p>“And I’m <em>here</em> for you now. I’m not leaving you again. Ever.” He took a breath. “I thought my spirit was going to be absorbed a lot quicker than it was being. I became translucent but I wasn’t dead. I had no pulse, but I was still walking, I was talking, I was fighting the others while you were working in the mainland.”</p>
<p>“There was a <em>war.” </em>Xander choked his sob as he looked at him. “We fought in a <em>war! </em>And you weren’t there. And I’ve been so scared-.”</p>
<p>John pulled Xander tighter to his chest and kissed his hair. “Is the war over?”</p>
<p>Xander nodded and wiped his eyes, trying to breathe but it felt as if he were constricted. “Russia and Goodman made a deal a couple days ago…”</p>
<p>“Were any lost?”</p>
<p>“Not as many as I thought would be.” He looked up to John, reaching a hand up. He let his hands slip through John’s hair and he smiled. “It’s really you.”</p>
<p>“It’s really me.” He took another breath. “I let you down. I should have grabbed a suit and come home to you last year.”</p>
<p>“John-.” Xander quickly cut him off by moving off his chest, lying beside him instead. He cupped his face and looked at him. “It’s okay. You did what you had to do. I just wanna celebrate that by some <em>miracle </em>you’re home.”</p>
<p>John looked at him and smiled, placing his hand over Xander’s, running his thumb over his husband’s knuckles. “You got any…specific requests about what you wanna do?”</p>
<p>“I want you to keep singing to me. I don’t remember the last time I heard you sing sober.”</p>
<p>John smiled and leaned in closer, wrapping his free arm around Xander’s waist. Sober, his voice was much softer, lighter than a feather, unlike his drunk voice which was loud and pitchy. He never usually sang sober. But Xander deserved this. <em>“Now I’m searching every lonely place, every corner calling out your name. Tryna find you, but I just don’t know.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Where do broken hearts go?” </em>Xander sang, and John smiled.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Where do broken hearts go.”</em>
</p>
<p>Throughout the day, they celebrated. They announced the news back at PEIP, and John explained <em>how </em>he’d come home. Apparently, there was <em>the </em>God in The Black and White, and she was able to get him home using the power of the human heart. Xander had given John ten dollars based on the fact they placed a bet on the fact the world didn’t actually revolve around love and it could easily go without it.</p>
<p>In the early evening, they ordered John’s favourite take out and decided to do John’s favourite activity. Getting drunk. John started singing on drink three, and he got very loveable. While Xander was pouring himself another glass of red, John hooked his arms around Xander’s waist and buried his face in his neck.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yeah the taste of your lips on the tip of my tongue-.”</em>
</p>
<p>“John,” Xander chuckled as John started kissing his skin, causing Xander to tilt his head slightly.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Is at the top of my list of the things I want.”</em>
</p>
<p>Xander grinned and picked up the wine glass, and as he turned, was pulled into a small dance by John. <em>“Mind is running in circles of you and me. Anyone in between is the enemy.” </em>His voice growled slightly, his face burying back into Xander’s neck. “Sing!” He squeaked, and Xander swayed with John in the kitchen.</p>
<p><em>“Shadows come with the pain that you’re running from. Love was something you’ve never heard enough.” </em>Even drunk, his voice remained quiet and soft, a slight rough edge to it, but it was a purely beautiful noise. John squeaked happily and looked up to him with his big blue eyes.</p>
<p><em>“Yeah, it took me some time but I figured out how to fix up a heart that I let down!” </em>His voice got progressively louder making Xander laugh.</p>
<p>“Let’s go sit back down, okay?” That earned a groan of protest from John and he furrowed his eyebrows.</p>
<p>“You know where I want to sit? Your <em>face-.”</em></p>
<p>“John, do you even know what that means?”</p>
<p>“No, I do not.” John said and looked at him.</p>
<p>“My God, you are <em>so </em>vanilla.” Xander pushed John off of him and walked back into the other room, the glass of red in hand. John followed after him like an eager puppy and folded his arms, pouting.</p>
<p>“I am <em>not.” </em></p>
<p>“You’re a vanilla bottom.”</p>
<p>“I am <em>not!”</em></p>
<p>“What are you gonna do, prove me otherwise?” Xander asked and raised an eyebrow. John flushed at that, and Xander kicked his legs up on to the coffee table, taking a sip from his wine. “I thought so.”</p>
<p>“Upstairs, I will.”</p>
<p>“You can try.” Xander smirked as John scrunched his face up, a little frustrated. Luckily for them, the conversation didn’t progress any further for the music they were listening to, which happened to be a custom CD Xander made for John of all of his favourite songs, started playing <em>their </em>song. He could see John perk up and he looked at Xander. Xander rolled his eyes but climbed on the sofa. John jumped up excitedly and immediately started drunkenly singing and dancing.</p>
<p><em>“Now I’m searching every lonely place! Every corner calling out your name! Tryna find you but I just don’t know- </em>Xander sing it!”</p>
<p>Xander laughed and took John’s hand, pulling him back into a dance to stop him from jumping on the couch. “<em>Where do broken hearts go?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>“Are you sleeping, baby, by yourself? Or are you giving it to someone else?”</em>
</p>
<p>“Only you,” Xander purred, causing John to start laughing in the middle of the lyric.</p>
<p><em>“Try to find you- but I just don’t know-.” </em>He paused to laugh and started singing the next line severely out of breath. “<em>Where do broken hearts go?”</em></p>
<p><em>“Where do broken hearts go?” </em>Xander finished, and John started twisting, getting Xander to twist with him.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Tell me now, tell me now. Tell me where you go when you feel afraid. Tell me now, tell me now, tell me will you ever love me again, love me again?” </em>
</p>
<p>“Of course I will. I never stopped,” Xander whispered and pressed a light kiss to John’s forehead. Immediately, his eyes lit up brightly and he started jumping on the couch, making small noises to himself as he stimmed. Xander watched his husband and smiled gently.  </p>
<p><em>“Now I’m searching every lonely place. Every corner calling out your name. Tryna find you but I just don’t know. Where do broken hearts go?” </em>He wrapped his arms around John and cuddled him again. <em>“Are you sleeping, baby, by yourself? Or are you giving it to someone else? Try to find you but I just don’t know. Where do broken hearts go?” </em></p>
<p><em>“Tell me where you’re hiding out.” </em>John sang, and they sang the next line together in unison.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Where do broken hearts go?”</em>
</p>
<p><em>“Come on baby, cuz I need you now!” </em>Xander sang, still dancing with John on the couch.</p>
<p><em>“Where do broken hearts go!” </em>They sang together again before John took over once more.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Tell me, cuz I’m ten feet down!”</em>
</p>
<p><em>“Where do broken hearts go?” </em>They sang together once more.</p>
<p><em>“Come on baby, come and get me out! </em>Now you sing John.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“Come on, baby, come and get me out!”</em>
</p>
<p><em>“Come on baby, cuz I need you now!” </em>They sang in unison, still dancing on the couch in each other’s arms. <em>“Where do broken hearts go? Where do broken hearts go? Where do broken hearts go? Where do broken hearts go?” </em></p>
<p>“The Black and White-.” John said as he finished dancing, catching his breath, and he earned a soft punch from Xander. “So…” he walked over to the radio player and stopped the music. “Can we have sex now?” He asked and Xander burst out laughing. He hopped off the couch, drank the rest of his wine, and swept John off of his feet, kissing him softly.</p>
<p>“Most definitely.”</p>
<p>Needless to say, the hangover the next morning was worth it, especially when John promised they’d get to buy blackout curtains.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A A A A  A A AA A A A A A anyways,,, where /do/ broken hearts go?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>i hope you enjoyed!!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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